The Soul Never Dies
by BregoArodShadowfax
Summary: AU. Sequel to Ghosts of the Past. Several of the students survive the barricade, but how can they get back to their old lives when so much has changed? Some slashiness ahead.
1. Chapter 1

**The Soul Never Dies**

**So, here is the promised sequel to "Ghosts of the Past." I hope that it lives up to that story! I had the idea in my head for a while and finally got around to starting this thing when I was in Orlando. Oh, for the record: Orlando's not the greatest place to get massive writing done, especially when you have scheduled buses to take to Disney World! But that's beside the point. General warnings and stuff: this is AU, as in 'ppl living after June 6.' As in, 'ppl not dying horrible, bloody deaths.' As in…I realized I love my boys too much to kill them off. So, now that that's out of the way…um…do I need to warn readers about slash? Shouldn't, I suppose because of my other story…nothing worse than some kissing, don't worry! Once again, all ideas and...a couple original characters are mine, so please don't steal them! And no flames. I know my story is AU, and I know that some people don't approve of slash. I don't need to hear it. **

**So, was writing a really dark Les Miz fic that is currently on hold, because I don't want to rush the ending until I feel that it's as good as the rest of the story. So look out for that one, hopefully. Angst galore, but that's just me. Also started working on an **_**Ocarina of Time **_**story b/c I'm playing the game again and it's just an awesome game. If you haven't played it, what's wrong with you? Seriously. No, but it's still a phenomenal game. But back to this story…and I'm sorry that the title really doesn't come into play until the very last line, but I'm just like that. (Smiles innocently)**

**Disclaimer: I own no part of Les Miz. Which is probably a good thing******

**Chapter One**

Jehan Prouvaire shakily stood up and surveyed his surroundings. The gunshots seemed to have stopped, and the National Guard were nowhere to be seen. He was lucky to even be alive, he supposed, considering that he should have been executed the night before.

But even if he was alive, was anyone else? He could not get the look on Bahorel's face when he died out of his head, the other's good humor and incessant émeute-talk silenced forever. Bahorel did not deserve that. And how many others were dead?

He looked up at the barricade which, despite being riddled with holes, still had the red flag flying proudly atop it. A testament to their legacy, he thought wryly, doomed as it was from the start.

A testament to Apollo.

With a sense of foreboding, he crossed through the barricade, searching for any trace of his friends. As he carefully stepped over piles of rubble and…he shivered…dead bodies, he heard a slight scuffling behind him. He cautiously turned around to find Joly staring at him in disbelief. His green overcoat was torn in a dozen places, and he was leaning heavily on his cane as if it was the only thing holding him up…but he was alive, and that gave Jehan hope.

"Pierre," Jehan smiled, crossing to him.

"J-Jehan?" Joly asked softly, pushing his glasses farther up his nose as if they were deceiving him. "Y-you…how did you…" he staggered, clutching his arm.

"Now is not the time to explain that," Jehan responded, reaching out to grip the other man's shoulder. "Are you injured badly? Is anyone else alive?"

"No…it's just a scratch. And I have not really had the time to look. I…Bossuet is a royal idiot! Only a fool would take a bullet for somebody else," Joly said harshly. "But I suppose I should be thankful that the Guard had poor aim."

"Joly, he loves you. If I had been here, I would have…" Jehan paused.

"Feuilly. I know. I hope, for your sake that he is still alive," Joly looked at Prouvaire seriously.

"Regardless, we must get Bossuet, yourself, and anyone else we may find medical help. One of us has to go for a doctor while the other searches for anyone else who may be alive," Jehan put in.

"I cannot believe how rational you are. I am positively scared out of my mind!" Joly exclaimed, laughing nervously. "But how do you expect us to get help? We're rebels; we're outside the law and do not deserve kindness."

"We're also human, Pierre, and we care and feel as any other human does," Jehan replied.

"In that case, I believe I should go to the hospital. As a medical student, I may find a friend there whom I can convince to help," he suggested. "Although…it may be better for me to stay, because I am better equipped to deal with copious amounts of blood. Is suppose it is your choice."

"My choice, Pierre? In that case, I think it would be best if you went to the hospital. Even if you can help here, you hardly have the supplies to do it. And you would have a better chance of convincing someone than I," Jehan replied, and despite the fact that his head was often in the clouds, he was thinking more clearly than he had in a long time.

Joly nodded. "All right. Well, one good thing about al this…my cold has cleared up. But…ah…good luck, Jehan."

"And to you," Jehan nodded. The two men stared at each other for a moment before embracing, each knowing the other needed comfort. Joly smiled briefly before climbing through the barricade, and Jehan focused on the task at hand.

He had only been searching for a few moments when he was hailed. "Jehan?" The voice was weak, but familiar. He looked down at his feet and quickly dropped to his knees.

"Courfeyrac?" He pulled the other man out of the mud that soaked the ground.

"Glad to see you…alive…" Courfeyrac grimaced, and Jehan could see the bright red blood coating his chest through the grime.

"Joly's gone to get help. Can you hold on?" Once again, Jehan was shocked by his own lack of emotion. He was entirely calm.

Courfeyrac nodded, but then he groaned and clutched at his chest. _"Mon Dieu, _it hurts. But I…" he grabbed Jehan's sleeve. "Is…there anyone else?" His eyes were haunted.

"Bossuet's alive, but hurt…I'm not sure how badly. Past that…" Jehan shrugged.

"Oh. Well…if you find André…no matter what the news may be…will you promise to let me know?" he asked. Jehan nodded silently. "Good. I…you should go and keep looking, then."

"Are you certain? Joly will not be back for a good while yet," Prouvaire pointed out. "And I can hardly do anything for the others right now. I do not want to abandon you."

"Far too kind of y…" Courfeyrac closed his eyes and shuddered, his breathing ragged. "But don't fuss over me. There's a good chance I…" he broke off. Jehan pulled him close, trying to be careful of his wound, and held him. Courfeyrac smiled. "_Dieu, _I'm so weak."

"Hardly, _mon ami_. How bad is it?" Jehan tried to be comforting.

"Not sure. Only one bullet, I think, but it feels bad. Like my chest is being ripped apart," he sighed. "I'm going to miss Bahorel."

"We all will, Courfeyrac. He was a good man. We…this was all so wrong," Prouvaire shook his head.

"Maybe so, but we all knew what we were getting into…what our chances were," Courfeyrac cleared his throat. "Apollo."

"I know. He is the one I fear discovering the most," Jehan admitted.

"If he's dead, he died the way he wanted to: as a martyr. And I'll be you anything he's one of those lucky men who will be more beautiful dead than alive," Courfeyrac pointed out, garnering a smile from Jehan.

"And he is beautiful."

"No question about it," Courfeyrac replied. "But I should let you get back to your hunt…let you find Feuilly…I'll be fine." The look on his face betrayed the pain he was truly feeling, and Jehan saw that, but the man was right: he could not help Courfeyrac at the moment.

"All right. I will be back as son as I am able. Hold on, François," Jehan carefully settled the other man so he was propped up against the _Corinth _building, and headed back up the barricade.

A few yards further on, he discovered a hat suspended on a broken wooden beam…a hat he recognized immediately. _Sébastien…_he thought, searching the ground.

Courfeyrac glanced up as Jehan returned, carrying Feuilly in his arms. "Jehan! Is he…"

Jehan smiled, and Courfeyrac breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Heaven. Do you want me to watch over him for you?" The pain in his chest seemed to be diminishing, at least.

"Would you? I would appreciate it. I…cannot tell how bad his injuries are."

"Jehan, I know how much you care for him, but I'm sure everything will work out. Oh…and Enjolras went into the wine shop to hold off the National Guard, so if you want to look for him…"

"I'll start there. Thank you." Jehan gently laid Feuilly on the ground and entered _Corinth_. Looking about at the scattered bodies, he noticed the stairs had been knocked down, which led him to believe that whatever he was searching for was upstairs.

Pushing a table under the opening, he stood on it and pulled himself up, thankful that he was tall. The upper room was empty, but the pool table was placed in a defensive position. Rounding the table, he saw a sight that made his stomach churn, and he gripped the table for support. Enjolras and Grantaire. Obviously dead, judging by the amount of blood. That is, until Enjolras lifted his head. "Jehan?"

"Apollo! You're alive!" Jehan rushed over. "What…how…" Jehan stared at the bullet holes marring his leader's chest.

"Bad aim," Enjolras smiled wryly. "I'm afraid Grantaire was not so lucky. Idiot! He could have left; he had no part in the fighting. But he chose to be heroic and die with me. Only he died, and I did not. Because he wanted to make me like him, when I never even hated him in the first place."

"_Dieu, _you are immortal, aren't you? How many…"

"Eight. Don't look so mortified, Jehan. It should have been twelve. But Grantaire…regardless, they found it somewhat difficult to carry out the execution order. One man said it was akin to shooting a flower," Enjolras shook his head.

"Immortal _and _lucky," Jehan smiled.

"Maybe so. But what of the others? How many did we lose?" Enjolras asked.

"Sébastien and Bossuet are unconscious but alive, Courfeyrac's injured but still awake, Joly left to get help, and I have not seen Combeferre," Jehan replied.

"Marius?"

"There's been no sign of him, either." Jehan had hoped that Enjolras had not noticed his omission because he did not want to tell the other man this, but of course Apollo had really been asking about Marius from the start.

"Good. Perhaps he got away, as I told him to," Enjolras looked thoughtful. "But that is comforting; I expected the news to be much graver. Especially considering the fact that we thought you dead last night," he added.

"Well, I am not dead yet. But how can I get you out? Are you able to be carried?" Jehan was still a little nervous to touch the other man.

"Most likely. And nothing bad will happen to you if you try, Jehan. I know you're still afraid of me," he smiled knowingly, but soon dissolved into a fit of coughing. When it ceased, he looked back up, blood dripping from his mouth.

Jehan averted his eyes, unable to let himself look upon his leader when he was experiencing weakness.

"Jehan…" Enjolras' voice was rough as he addressed the poet. "What chance does Joly have of getting help?"

"He will, sure enough," Jehan responded; perhaps a little too quickly, but Enjolras nodded and leaned back against the wall, his energy obviously spent. Jehan knelt down beside him and cautiously reached out to take his hand. Enjolras smiled wearily at him. Jehan hesitantly returned the smile. _Joly, where are you? _


	2. Chapter 2

**So…two reviews. Maybe I should set a limit, like… "I won't post again until I get five!" Okay, so that never works, but it's worth a shot. So…next chappie…and there's… 'gasp' ANGST!!! Muah-hah-hah! Er…I need help. But anyway. Enjoy. Once again, this was written in Orlando, so any lapses are the fault of Florida and Mickey.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own. Julien's mine, but that's about it. **

**Chapter Two**

"I _am _sorry, Pierre, but helping a rebel makes me a rebel, and that is not something I wish to deal with." Julien Béssard stood up.

"Julien, I am asking you as a friend. Is there nothing you can think of…"

"Pierre, it isn't possible," Julien stared at the other man, who looked nothing more than like he had just been attacked by a wild animal. "Even if I could help, the hospital is full of National Guard…"

"The Guard! Are they more human than us, because they are on the winning side? Is their pain more real than ours because of it?" Joly remembered Jehan's earlier comment as he said this. "The way I see it, the only traitors are those who pledged themselves to us and did not show up to fight. They are the true cowards!" Joly spat, causing Julien to flinch.

"Pierre, I would like to help, but…"

"Julien, people out there could die because you refuse to do something. Can you live with their blood on your hands?" Joly was nearly shouting.

"Pierre, calm down! I have never seen you this way! You must be truly concerned for one of your friends," Julien commented.

"I…" Joly sighed. "If he dies, he dies because he was trying to save me. And that is something I cannot live with."

"Well, I can hardly refuse your request, then…because that _would _make me a traitor. I was going to come fight, you realize…a group of us were, but we were too scared. What did you go? What motivated you?" Julien asked.

Joly stared at him for about a minute before replying: "Apollo."

Jehan started when he heard footsteps on the floor beneath him, but relaxed when Joly called, "Jehan? Are you there?"

"Pierre? Come up," Jehan replied, and a minute later Joly climbed through the hole, followed closely by another man. Jehan stood up and asked, "Who is this?"

"A friend. He has agreed to help us. We found Courfeyrac outside and he directed us in here," Joly explained.

"Well, a friend of Pierre's is a friend of mine. I'm Jehan Prouvaire," Jehan held out his hand.

"Julien Béssard," the other man replied, shaking the proffered hand.

"I was hoping you would be fast; I'm a little unsure of how to get Apollo downstairs," Jehan said to Joly.

"Apollo?" Joly walked around the pool table, stopping short when he saw the pool of blood on the floor.

"Pierre," Enjolras nodded sagely, still managing to look dignified despite the wounds he had suffered. "I gave Jehan permission to carry me, but I fear he is still somewhat…apprehensive."

"I'm hardly sure if moving you is the best course of action to take, but there is really no other way. How did the stairs fall down to begin with?" Joly asked curiously.

"That…was my fault," Enjolras admitted. "I was buying myself time."

"Fair enough. Jehan? Can I get you to stand on the table below so I can lower him down to you?" Prouvaire nodded as Joly gazed at Grantaire's body sympathetically, shaking his head and bending over to pick up Enjolras, who winced slightly. Joly carefully lowered him through the hole, and then he and Julien jumped down as well.

"Alright?" Joly asked Enjolras.

"Naturally. Never better," Enjolras forced out a smile, but he was obviously in a lot of pain.

"Julien? Jehan? Why don't the two of you see how we're progressing outside? I just want to check Enjolras over." The others left, and Joly asked, "Now…how are you?"

"I told you already, Pierre: I feel fine."

"Enjolras, I know how much you hate showing weakness because you want to be a strong leader, but right now, I'm asking you as a friend…as an equal. Besides…you're hardly a leader anymore. The revolution…insurrection, really, is over, and I doubt any of us want to go through this again. We're lucky we made it once," Joly told the other man.

Enjolras sighed. "You speak truthfully, of course, and in all honesty, it does not hurt nearly as bad as I feared it would. All I want to do is sleep…I'm spent in every possible way…but I fear that if I do I shall never awaken," he admitted.

"Well, we shall get you over to the hospital as quickly as we can. You seem to handling this all very well; most people with your injuries would go into a state of shock," Joly informed Enjolras with a small smile.

"I'm not 'most people,'" Enjolras replied, causing Joly's smile to widen, but a second later Jehan rushed back in. "What is it, Jehan?"

"A-André. He's…you had better come see it yourselves…" Jehan managed to get this out amidst convulsive shivers. He looked decidedly ill.

"Well, let's go," Joly directed Jehan to help Enjolras, which he did still somewhat cautiously. They walkout outside to find Julien kneeling over Combeferre, and Joly could see why Jehan looked so nauseous. Combeferre was lying facedown on the ground, the bloody points of three bayonets protruding through his back. Courfeyrac was collapsed on the ground beside him, obviously unsure how to react.

"Let me down," Enjolras commanded, and Jehan placed him carefully on the ground. Enjolras turned Combeferre over, hurriedly searching for a pulse.

"There is no possible chance that he is alive," Julien muttered to Joly. "That's as unpleasant a way to die as I've ever seen."

Joly gritted his teeth and nodded, but Enjolras, who had been studying Combeferre intently, shook his head. "No; he's still breathing. Look…"

Courfeyrac glanced up in shocked disbelief before replying, "He _is_ breathing. He's alive!"

"But how…" Julien stammered. "That injury would kill a normal man in little or no time at all! How can he…"

"You need to learn, Julien, that we are hardly normal men," Joly smiled. "But, normal or not, we need to get everyone to the hospital. We have enough fiacres to transport them?"

"Of course, but I am afraid that by moving him the bayonets may pierce something…"

"Not if we remove them first," Enjolras interrupted.

"But that will increase the bleeding, and…"

"Then get me some linen." There was no room for argument in his tone, and Julien gulped and ran off to find bandages. Enjolras gripped a bayonet where it had broken off from the gun as Julien came back with an armful of linen strips. "You're a doctor; I assume you know how to staunch blood flow," Enjolras said curtly before sharply pulling the bayonet out, repeating the process with the other two.

Julien worked quickly to apply the bandages, but he was still coated in blood when he stood up. "Are you insane?" he rounded on Enjolras. "Do you know how much blood he just lost? We have to do these procedures carefully, or…"

"You were doing nothing, so I felt I had to step in. André Combeferre is my oldest friend and I would do anything in my power to save him," Enjolras replied harshly, standing to meet Julien, whom he towered over. Julien glanced at him quickly before stepping back, because at that moment Enjolras truly could have passed for a god. And a very angry one at that.

"Jehan, get Enjolras into a fiacre and let's go to the hospital," Joly broke in. "I'll look after Combeferre."

Enjolras nodded and Jehan helped get him into the waiting fiacre, returning a moment later to assist Courfeyrac with getting in the other side.

As the carriage lurched away, Courfeyrac asked, "What chance does he have?"

"What chance do any of us have?" Enjolras asked between gritted teeth. He winced as the fiacre hit a bump. "It hardly matters how many times a man is shot when it only takes one bullet to kill."

Courfeyrac nodded mournfully and leaned back, closing his eyes. Enjolras could clearly see the other man was in pain. Perhaps more than he; that bullet had nearly found its mark. "Come here." Courfeyrac opened one eye.

"What?" Enjolras did not repeat himself, so Courfeyrac moved cautiously across the carriage, seating himself on the other side. Enjolras reached out and pulled the other man to him, needing the comfort as much as Courfeyrac did. "Apollo…really…"

"Be quiet, François. This never happened," Enjolras replied gruffly. Courfeyrac nodded and settled himself against the other man. "How do you feel?" Enjolras asked, gentler.

"Horrible. I want…to die. There, I said it. André will, and…"

"François, listen to me. You must live. If not for André, then for me. God knows you try my patience sometimes, but your remarks are often the only things that make me smile," Enjolras admitted.

"Did I hear you correctly? Was that a compliment?" Courfeyrac half-grinned. "But in all seriousness…if I were to die, I could think of no better place to do it than in your arms, my brother."

"François, now you sound like Jehan," Enjolras admonished.

"Silly little faerie-boy has all the luck," the other man muttered. "How did he survive?"

"I really don't…" he paused as the carriage rolled to a stop. Jehan opened the door and helped Courfeyrac out, and Joly appeared a moment later.

"He looked better. How…Apollo!" Enjolras closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat, the pain he was trying to mask finally surfacing. And it hurt like nothing he could have ever imagined.

"Pierre…" he gasped out, his fair skin coated in a sheen of sweat.

"I'm here. It'll be okay…"

"Hold me." Even through the pain, he was still able to give a convincing order, Joly thought as he wrapped his arms around the other man.

"I'll stay with you as long as you want. I won't leave you alone," he promised, trying to envision life without Enjolras and finding it impossible. He was a part of him…of all of them.

"_Merci, mon ami," _Enjolras groaned; his hands tightening on Joly's coat; his breath coming in quick gasps.

"Apollo, fight it! Don't give in, not now! Hold on for us…for Marius!" Joly threw the last in out of sheer desperation, not knowing whether Marius was even alive, but it had the desired effect. Enjolras snapped his eyes open and his breathing slowed down. "Marius…" he repeated.

"Thank God. I thought I'd lost you." Joly held the other man close.

"Not yet, Pierre. Not yet."

_Not ever, _Joly thought, as he moved to help Enjolras into the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I didn't get five reviews, but I'm going away tomorrow so I'm going to be nice and post a new chapter! Yay! And there is some of my twisted backstory explained in here, so if you've **_**still **_**been wondering why Enjolras is so afraid of people…well, I won't give it away! ******

**Chapter Three**

Feuilly opened his eyes slowly, wondering where he was. When he realized it was a hospital, he sat up cautiously, feeling the bandage around his chest. Reality came back to him with a crashing clarity, and he remembered… _Jehan…I'm sorry I never told you how…_

"Morning, Sébastien!"

"Jehan!" Feuilly whipped around. "You…how…" he could not say more before the other man embraced him.

"_Mon Dieu, _Sébastien, you had me worried. _Cher…_" he paused.

"Jehan, brother, sweet friend…how did you survive?" Feuilly forced out.

"Yes, Jehan, I believe we would all like to know that." Feuilly looked up to see Enjolras staring at him, one eyebrow slightly raised. "Sébastien," he inclined his head.

"A-Apollo. Glad to see you alive."

"It's been a struggle to keep him that way, though," Joly smiled. "How do you feel, Feuilly?"

"Fine. I…what happened? Why aren't we all in jail?" he asked curiously.

"A friend of mine, Julien Béssard, works here and he has kindly given us some little-used room in order for those who were injured to recover. By the time we leave, in all likelihood, the police will no longer be concerned with us. And it is highly unlikely that they knew who any of us were," Joly explained.

"Well, that is a stroke of luck. How long has it been?" Feuilly inquired.

"Almost two months. You and Bossuet were the most reluctant to wake up," Jehan replied.

"I take offense to that. I merely happen to like sleep," Bossuet glared at Jehan.

"But tell us, Jehan, what happened with you?" Enjolras asked again.

Jehan ducked his head, a common gesture of embarrassment for him, and said, "Not much of a tale, really. I was to be executed, and as they prepared to shoot, I yelled, '_Vive le France! Vive l'avenir!' _although I was much too scared to even move. However, my fear completely took over, because the instant the order was given, I…fainted," he looked down. "They did not bother to check if I was truly dead, it being dark and raining and all, and so merely left me. And that is the whole story."

"What did I tell you! Silly little faerie-boy has all the luck!" Courfeyrac exclaimed.

Feuilly laughed in spite of himself as he replied, "Well, I hardly care how you did it; I'm just relieved you're alive." Then, in a more serious tone, he added, "But…you are certain the police will not find us?"

He had hardly finished speaking when the door burst open and a dark-haired man wearing a National Guard uniform entered. "M'sieur, please! You cannot go in there!" Julien ran in after the other. "They have…"

"The plague." The other finished tonelessly. "They do not look very sick to m…oh, hello, dearest _cousin_." The last was said scornfully.

Enjolras stood up, his body rigid; his fists clenched. "You…get out!"

"Apollo, don't strain yourself," Joly said, also standing.

" 'Apollo?' Oh, don't tell me you've got worshippers now. What is this? You have to make up for what you are…nothing but a street child!" the other spat. "But then, you would not have told anybody, would you? Well, go on, tell them…because I will if you won't."

"Tell us what?" Jehan asked gently.

"That…I…" Enjolras let out a deep breath. "I'm…an orphan."

"…and?..."

"And what? That makes me…"

"No less than I," Feuilly put in.

Enjolras shook his head. "No. It makes me a fraud. My father…the man I call my father," he amended, "is a very wealthy man…semi-royalty, I suppose, but that is not important. My parents, for reasons unknown, were unable to bear children. My father feared he could never sire an heir, but one day they found a baby abandoned on their doorstep. My mother rarely left our estate and, being as how nobody else knew about their dilemma, they all accepted that she had finally been able to bear a son.

"My father has a brother, less than a year younger, who always resented the fact that my father inherited everything and he received next to nothing. It pleased him to no end to think that my father would not sire an heir and that he, as the closest living relative, would get the estate and pass it on to his son. He was livid when he found out about the child.

"You must understand; my uncle is a cruel man. He plans to use the money, if he ever acquires it, to implement a program that would make France a land of the bourgeois. Anybody who lived on the streets or did not make sufficient income would be jailed, exiled, or executed." Enjolras glanced at Feuilly, who was staring straight ahead with an unreadable expression. Jehan put a hand on his arm and gave him a reassuring smile, but Feuilly was obviously angry.

"Now, my father knows that our family is close enough to the king for this to happen, because the king has no love for the poor, and so he felt he had to do all he could to prevent this. My father, you see, believes the poor have as much of a right to life as anyone.

"I suppose my part in this has been ingrained in me since they adopted me, but I always found it somewhat ironic that, while my father would not harm the poor, he never seemed to want to help them, either. And so, even above my duty, knowing I could never spend my life stuck in the estate, I made it my goal to reclaim France for the people.

"When I was sixteen, my father told me the truth about who I was, and naturally, I told my best friend…my cousin. Little did I know he would betray me to his father. Of course, my uncle tried to get my legitimacy revoked, but since there was no solid evidence other than the word of a sixteen-year old boy, that plan failed.

"My father knew I was in danger because of this; that my uncle would probably be looking to kill me, so he sent me to Paris with André to protect me, although André hardly knew the truth. And that is why I became so solitary…because I was afraid that anyone I became too close to would only betray me." He glared at the other man.

"How touching," he other sneered. "But if you don't want the estate, you can just give it…"

"Never. I would die…" he cut off and fell to his knees, coughing. When the fit passed, he wiped his sleeve across his mouth and it came away stained red with blood.

"At this rate, you just might," Joly stepped forward. "You need rest…"

"No; I most certainly do not. Stop babying me, Pierre!" he said harshly, and Joly took a step back. "Now…you've come here to kill me, then?"

"I came here to send you all to the gallows. I had no idea you would be here, but I must admit…killing you myself would be much more rewarding," he other man pulled a pistol out and pointed it at Enjolras.

"Do it, then." Enjolras glanced up, his clear blue eyes filled with unmistakable sorrow. "You've already killed André."

"What?" The pistol lowered. "Where is he?"

"Here. But most likely he will die because the National Guard seems to make it their policy to kick a man when he's down. The doctors found him with three bayonets embedded in his chest. Tell me, cousin, you who were once his friend…did you wish that upon him?" Enjolras stared at the other man.

"Of course not! He _was _my friend…enough small talk!" The pistol came back up, but the man's conviction was clearly wavering. "Take me to him…"

Enjolras nodded and slowly got to his feet. He could feel the others watching him, and so he said, "Don't worry about me. I'm fine," and walked out of the room. Crossing the hall, he opened another door and went to stand beside the single bed inside the room. The man followed, a grimace crossing his face as he looked at Combeferre.

"André was a fool to go with you," he said after a time. "He could have been in the Guard; a man of his talents would have been useful. Now he will die for nothing."

"You're wrong." Enjolras met the other man's gaze. "If he dies, he dies for a cause he believed in…because he thought he could make a difference." He reached down and took Combeferre's hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"And what difference have you made?" the other's voice rose to a yell. "None! You haven't! Do you know how many people died out there because of you?! How many families broken up, how many lovers lost, because of the selfishness of a worthless orphan?!" he paused. "But then, you would not care, would you? You care only for yourself. You know nothing of love," the other man sneered. Enjolras flinched involuntarily, knowing the truth of what the other man was saying. Nobody loved him…_really _loved him. He knew they never would. They claimed to, said they idolized him, but one can never love an idol or a god…only admire them from a distance. And it was true, also, that the others only went into the battle because of him. But then, he could not let the other man know he had guessed correctly, so he replied:

"And you know nothing of me. Those who fought were not forced to. They were neither threatened nor coerced. They fought knowing their odds. They…" He cut off as he felt Combeferre's fingers tighten around his own. "André…"

Combeferre opened his eyes and blinked, saying, "Apollo?" Enjolras smiled in response as he pulled the other man to a sitting position and supported him. "Well, it mustn't be Heaven, or my chest wouldn't hurt, and after all…I doubt the gods would ever let you in. They'd be too jealous."

"André!" Enjolras exclaimed, smiling. "_Dieu, _I've missed you."

Combeferre smiled in return and then noticed the other man. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, and he noticed how tense Enjolras was. But this was his cousin, his best friend, but…suddenly all the pieces came together. "You!" he exclaimed. "You're the reason, aren't you?"

Enjolras nodded, suspecting that Combeferre would figure it out.

Combeferre turned back to Enjolras, asking him the question that had brought out the other man's temper on innumerable occasions in the past. "Now, will you finally tell me the truth?"

Enjolras sighed and repeated his story. When he finished, Combeferre shook his head. "I knew you were different from the rest of your family, but…"

"He's an orphan. He has no family," the other said curtly.

"That is most certainly not true. We may not be blood related, but he is my brother none-the-less," Combeferre replied. "You, however, are a lying rat with no semblance of honor. You betrayed him! It seems to me as if you are the one who has led a false life."

"What can you mean by that?"

"Everything you have done you've done because your father instructed you to. Are you that incapable of thinking for yourself? Or are you too afraid?" Combeferre narrowed his eyes.

"André, please. Don't strain yourself," Enjolras put in. "It's past; it does not matter." He turned to the other man. "Now…if you want to shoot me and fulfill your father's dream, so be it," he stood up. "But if you really are a good man, you will walk out that door and forget you ever saw any of us."

"Do you know the reward I would get if I turned you in?" the other asked.

"Is it worth seven lives?" Enjolras countered. "Your father cannot choose for you, this time. It's all up to you." Enjolras crossed his arms.

The other man let out a defeated sigh. "You are right, I suppose. And I never hated you…either of you; but my father gave me incentives not to disobey his wishes. But I…" he straightened and a barely perceptible smile flickered across his face. "As far as the National Guard is concerned, you all died on the barricade." He inclined his head slightly and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I got four reviews last chap. It's getting closer!!! Anyway, um…yeah, there's some slash-y stuff in this chapter, just to warn all of you. And…I can't believe I actually tried this…I wrote from Valjean's point of view. And it didn't turn out horribly! **

**Oh…and for the reviewer who was wondering, Grantaire does not come back 'to life.' Nobody comes back 'to life' after they've died in this story. Sorry:(. It's not that I don't like him as a character, it's just…well…I kind of explain my ironic theory next chapter. Read on! **

**Disclaimer: Nope. And never will. **

**Chapter Four**

Jean Valjean had heard the rumors. You could hear anything if you listened hard enough, and he had spent much of his life doing just that. They had started nearly a month before; a ward of the hospital closed down since June 6th for an unknown reason. To most people, this was gossip of no consequence. But he remembered June 6th…remembered what had taken place that day. And now, nearly four months later, Marius had finally been proclaimed out of danger and had been reunited with Cosette. Valjean no longer worried for them; they were young, happy, and in love.

And so he turned his mind to other matters, such as the hospital closure. Upon inquiring, he had been told that the people were confined because of a deadly illness, but he hardly believed that. Unwilling to press the matter, he had gone for a walk in the gardens outside the hospital, and, to his surprise, had seen a figure he recognized from the events of June 6th.

The man, really a boy in appearance, was sitting on the edge of a fountain carved in the likeness of a swan. He had one knee drawn up to his chest and a hand dragging lazily through the water; his hair reflecting the October sunlight. Valjean wondered in amazement if this was really the same red-vested carbine-toting revolutionary leader he had watched on the barricade, although there was no denying the battle-haunted look in his eyes that belied his true age. As Valjean approached, the other looked up.

"Good day, M'sieur," he nodded. "I am pleased to see you survived that day."

Valjean returned the nod, somewhat surprised that the boy remembered him, and responded, "Likewise, M'sieur…Enjolras, was it not?"

"Indeed. What brings you here on this fine day?" Enjolras leaned back on the ledge encircling the fountain and closed his eyes.

"Rumors. Correct rumors, I now see. And I daresay that it is now safe to come out of hiding; the police hardly remember the insurrection," Valjean replied.

"Oh, I am not afraid of the police, M'sieur. Rather, I have a friend who was severely injured that night, and I come here to visit him," Enjolras sighed. "I wish he would recover."

"I am sure he will. Why, there is a boy I know whom everyone thought dead, he was injured so badly. But he is a tough lad, and a mere two days ago the doctors told him he will make a full recovery. I came here in the hope of finding somebody who knows him. Is the name Marius Pontmercy familiar to you?" At the name, Enjolras had opened his eyes and sat up rather quickly.

"Marius is alive?" He looked overjoyed.

"Indeed. You are his friend?" Valjean asked.

"Yes. I…that is wonderful news. I have been rather worried," Enjolras admitted. "Then…will he marry, soon?"

"February," Valjean's voice got quieter. He did not like to think about the day Cosette would no longer need him.

"You do not sound very pleased by this." Valjean turned to find the boy staring at him intently, and it seemed to him that all the sunlight had been stolen away in order to be emitted through the other's golden hair and crystal blue eyes. There was something different about this boy…he was a deadly combination of beauty, intelligence, and authority. Valjean had felt it emanate from him while on the barricade, and now it seemed as if the boy was looking straight into his soul. Like all of his doubts, finally put to rest with Javert's death, were once again being laid bare. It was absurd, though decidedly disconcerting. All Valjean really knew was that he felt compelled to tell the truth.

"Every parent hates to give their child away. For the past ten years, I have been living for Cosette, and now she no longer needs me. She is not my real daughter, but I adore her no less for it. I suppose it is selfish of me, to think that because she will be happy, I will not," Valjean glanced down.

"Hardly, M'sieur, for I feel the same way. Marius and I were inseparable…we used to look down on married men because they were forced to give up a part of themselves in order to become good husbands. I do not want Marius to change, but it is inevitable. However, knowing that to be a fact does not make it hurt any less," Enjolras sighed and looked up at the sky.

"How much does Marius mean to you?" Valjean asked, wondering how much this boy would reveal.

"I cannot answer that, M'sieur, because I do not know. I would ask you, though, to not tell him that you have seen me. He is starting a new life; he has no use for what was. Perhaps, someday, I shall stop by and see him, but for now…I would rather that he just forget me," Enjolras replied.

Valjean nodded. "Indeed. Sometimes I wish Cosette would forget me, as well. Somehow, it hurts less that way. Well, good day to you, M'sieur," Valjean bowed slightly before walking away.

"You are, without a doubt, the most unconventional thinker I have ever met." Enjolras stiffened at Combeferre's comment, but he did not reply. "If it were me, I would be going over to see him this instant."

"I understand. And that is how we differ," Enjolras responded.

"Apollo, he probably misses you as much as you miss him," Combeferre pointed out gently, but Enjolras shook his head.

"That is what I fear, André. If I go to see him and it is clear he does not share my feelings…"

"And what feelings are those?"

"I don't know!" Enjolras angrily stood up. "Part of me wants to forget he ever existed, but the other…"

"Apollo, this is what began our problems the first time…you being unwilling to trust anyone with your secrets. That was how you and Marius became friends, after all…"

"Would you mind not interfering where it does not concern you?" Enjolras shot back.

"Once, I would have let it be, but not anymore. You need to talk to somebody, and since you are unwilling to go to Marius, I would appreciate it if you told m…" he leaned back on the bed, knowing in an instant that he had excited himself too much. Being a surgeon, he knew full well that his chances of living for more than a year were slim, and even if he were to survive, he would never again be the same. His hand clutched convulsively at the sheets and he groaned, his entire body feeling like there were millions of knives embedded in it.

"André!" Enjolras dropped to one knee beside the bed, a flash of fear flitting across his fair features. Combeferre evened out his breathing and the pain subsided but, like always, it left him completely drained of energy. "_Mon Dieu, _I'm such a fool. I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. I should know better." Combeferre closed his eyes. Enjolras cautiously laid a hand on the pillow, looking as if he wanted to offer comfort but was unsure of how to do it. Opening one eye, Combeferre reached up to take Enjolras' hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. "You know I'm going to die."

"We all will, somed…"

"No…" Combeferre closed his eyes again as another wave of searing pain ripped through him. "Apollo…" he forced out.

"André!" Courfeyrac rushed into the room, jumping onto the bed. "Enjolras, we have to regulate his breathing!"

"And how can we do that?" Enjolras sounded calm, but his eyes betrayed his true fear.

"I…do me a favor? Pretend you never saw this." With that, Courfeyrac leaned down and covered Combeferre's mouth with his own. Enjolras glanced at them in shock, but it seemed to have the desired effect. Combeferre relaxed and Courfeyrac broke the kiss, leaning back on his heels.

"Well…" Enjolras cleared his throat. "That was…interesting."

"I apologize. But it needed to be done," Courfeyrac responded. "I could hardly let him die on me."

"You shall have to François, because I will not live much longer," Combeferre broke in. "The…healing process is not happening like it should. I grow weaker by the day, and the spells of pain grow worse…"

"André, don't…" But Courfeyrac broke off, knowing that Combeferre would not be lying.

"Apollo…promise me you'll talk to Marius. You feel alone, I know, because I have François, Feuilly and Jehan have each other, and Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta have…whatever they have…" Combeferre trailed off.

"Marius and I were never like that," Enjolras replied, his voice tinged with bitterness. "And we can hardly be, now. He has a love of his own…"

"Ah, but her beauty can in no way rival yours," Courfeyrac smiled before turning back to Combeferre. "André, there must be some…how long do you have?"

"I…half a year, at best. But do not be sad. I regret nothing, François."

"Neither do I. But I do not want to lose you, André. I love you. If there's any way…"

"Courfeyrac, if there was a way, I would take it. Believe me, I am fighting this every step of the way. I love you too, after all," Combeferre smiled.

This exchange seemed to reassure Courfeyrac, and his normal good humor returned. "Now, Apollo…what are we to do with you and Marius? This would all be much easier if you would just…I know! Admit your true feelings, or I shall have to kiss you."

"François, really…"

"I'm being serious."

"You would not…"

"Don't provoke me, Apollo."

Enjolras sighed in exasperation. "Fran…" but that was all he got out before Courfeyrac did, indeed, kiss him, drawing Enjolras closer to him so the other man could not get away…not that Enjolras had any thoughts in that direction at the moment because, having never been kissed in his life, the situation was not entirely unpleasant. Courfeyrac pulled back, a strange gleam in his eyes.

"Now…" he said breathlessly. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Don't be a fool," Enjolras replied stiffly. "Although you should know better. And as for Marius, there is nothing to admit. I have…never…wanted him in that way, although I do love him. I have said it before; my life will be spent alone."

Courfeyrac shrugged. "If you say so. Not that I believe it." He paused for a moment, and then, as if it had just hit him: "_Mon Dieu, _I just kissed an angel! I need some air…" he ran out of the room.

"He's good for you, you know." Enjolras said this without looking at Combeferre, but then he dropped to his knees beside the bed. "_Dieu, _I do not want to lose you. You…how many times would I have badly injured or killed myself without you as my conscience, André?"

"Too many to count," Combeferre responded with a smile. "But it is life; it happens to us all. Do you remember when you used to always come crying to me and made me hold you until you felt better?" he asked.

"As I recall, it was mainly the other way around," Enjolras returned with a glare.

"Not until you were about ten. I _am _the older one." Combeferre paused. "Get in." Enjolras nodded slowly before climbing into the bed, allowing Combeferre to pull him close.

"I feel like a child again. Is that all we are, André? Children?"

"You were never allowed to be a child, remember? So…ah…hmm…" Combeferre cleared his throat.

"You aren't…mad at François?"

"Of course not. But you _do _have to speak to Marius; he is right about that."

"I know, I know. I will. And then…maybe I will leave. I can never start over again here. Maybe I can go to England…André, why did I live through that battle?" Enjolras asked.

"Because you wanted to, Apollo. Believe me, with your injuries…you could have succumbed had you wanted to. But something kept you going…and I am grateful for that. Julien told me it was you who insisted on removing the bayonets."

"And I fear I may have injured you more because of it." Enjolras turned so the two were facing each other.

"Never. It more than likely saved my life. You know how much you mean to me, don't you?" Enjolras bowed his head in response. "You will always have a family, Apollo, no matter what anyone else may say."

Enjolras nodded. "I…should go. Thank you, my friend…my brother, for everything. I would be hopelessly lost without you."

"You don't give yourself enough credit. You never have," Combeferre replied. Enjolras inclined his head slightly and left the room, his mind full of troubling thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**And now, introducing Marius, Cosette, and angst. Hmm…yeah. Oh…and as for Valjean appearing at that part of the story, I figured that it wouldn't make sense to have him on the barricade because, technically, he and Marius would have been gone by the time the events in this story happened. Also, he really wasn't suppose to be in story at all, but I needed a way for the boys to find out where Marius was and that he was still alive…so that's why Valjean made his special appearance. Anyway, enjoy. **

**Disclaimer: Still don't own. **

**Chapter Five**

Cosette was frustrated. It was her wedding night; supposedly the happiest night in a woman's life, and it was supposed to be a sacred bonding of a man and a woman into one being.

Her other half, however, was sitting on the bed and blindly staring out into space, as if witnessing a vision only he could see. She sighed.

"Marius? What's the matter?" she asked for the third time in about ten minutes. Her husband finally turned to look at her, blinking.

"Did you say something, Cosette?"

Cosette glanced down, feeling utterly depressed, and repeated, "I asked if something was wrong. You seem as if you are...somewhere else."

"Oh...I suppose I was just feeling guilty. After all, here I am, ready to start a new life...and they will never get a chance to do that. Everything they longed for or aspired to be...it can never come to pass. And that kills me, Cosette. That hurts more than any wound," he replied, standing.

"Marius, you must stop feeling bad about it. You were obviously meant to live for a reason. Do you not think your friends would be happy for you, were they here?" she asked, taking his hands. "Now, come...it is our wedding night, and we have all the privacy we need."

Marius moved away from her. "I...need to go downstairs for a bit...clear my mind," he said softly before walking out the door.

Cosette slumped on the bed and sobbed into her hands, feeling confused and alone.

----------------------------------------------------000---------------------------------------------------

Marius sat in an armchair facing the fireplace, his head supported in his hands as he leaned forward, staring into the crackling flames. Eight months. Eight _months _and he did not know how he was to keep living. There was a hole inside of him even Cosette could not fill. He heard the door open, but he did not look up. "Marius?" his grandfather asked. "What are you doing down her alone? Your angel is upstairs." M. Gillenormand adored Cosette; that much was evident.

"My angel died eight months ago," Marius replied in a monotone.

"Marius, you cannot..."

"Feel guilty, I know. But I do. I can't stop...God help me, I can't stop!" he choked back a sob. He heard the door close as his grandfather left him to compose himself, and he leaned back, tears running down his face.

To his surprise, the door opened again and a voice came: "Marius."

"Stop it," he whispered. He had seen them all; their ghosts, forever haunting him. He saw them with his waking eyes, as if he were mad. Was he mad? He groaned and covered his ears. "Leave me alone! You're not real! You're not..."

"Turn around." Marius felt his body twisting to obey even as his tortured mind screamed at it to stop. He rose out of the chair and came face-to-face with the being that haunted him the most.

"You..." he raised a shaking arm. "Go away! I don't believe it. It...it's not real! None of this is happening!" He fell to his knees and closed his eyes, his entire body shivering.

He felt a hand on his arm but he did not respond. "Marius, what's happened to you? Marius, look at me!" He finally did, opening his eyes and staring in disbelief.

"You...you're not dead? How?" Marius pulled back, but the other drew him closer. It seemed too real to be a trick, and Marius abandoned all fears and threw himself on the other man, holding on as if he would never let go. "_Dieu, _I've missed you so much," he choked out. "I can't believe you..."

"Marius, it's alright. I would have come sooner, but I was afraid..."

"Of what?" Marius looked up.

"That...you would no longer feel the same way about me. You were starting over, and I..."

"Fool. That's what you are, Enjolras. I thought you were dead! I thought...I've been going crazy with the guilt, and now..." he pulled back, his sadness giving way to anger. "_You _were afraid! How do you think I felt!" he stood.

"Marius, don't be mad at me. I should have died, but I kept going. Because of you! Eight bullets to the chest, and I made myself fight it." Enjolras' voice had taken on the frighteningly calm tone he only used when he was extremely angry.

"Eight..." Marius paused. "You...every day, I just wished I could know. If you were...dead...I could have moved on, but not knowing was the hardest part. I...love you, Apollo. You know that. You must."

"I do..." Enjolras reached out his hand and gripped Marius' shoulder. "But I only came to say goodbye. I'm leaving the country...there's nothing here for me now."

"No. You're staying. If I have to hold you down, you _will _stay." Marius retorted. Enjolras had changed. There was a hardness to him that had not been there before. Marius stepped closer, pulling their bodies together.

"You're making this all very difficult," Enjolras clasped Marius to him. "But then, you always do."

"What about the others? Are they alright?"

"All except Grantaire...Jehan isn't dead, you realize. Our dear poet had a fainting spell that saved his life. Wasn't even injured. François was somewhat bitter about that," Enjolras replied.

"He would be. But Grantaire...it is somewhat ironic, is it not, that the one to die for our cause was the one who never really believed in it?" Marius stared up at his friend.

"Indeed. Marius...what would your wife say if she saw us?" Enjolras asked lightly as, glancing at the door, he saw a young woman with dark-brown hair curled into tight ringlets staring wide-eyed at them.

"She..." Marius turned around. "Cosette, dearest, I did not hear you come in. This is..."

"Enjolras," she overrode him. "Yes. I could not mistake you, M'sieur. Marius talks of you incessantly. I am sure he is pleased to find you alive." Her tone was somewhat frosty.

"Madame the Baroness Pontmercy," Enjolras inclined his head. "He could not have mentioned me nearly as often as he talked of you. Why, at times I felt I knew you so well that I should have been the one marrying you."

Despite herself, Cosette smiled. "M'sieur, I must admit that I was somewhat jealous of you and your supposed beauty, but now I see it was a great honor for Marius to even compare my beauty to yours."

"I like her, Marius. She's adorable," Enjolras smiled.

"I knew you would," Marius replied, also smiling now that Cosette's anger seemed to have evaporated.

"And may I congratulate the two of you on your marriage. I am afraid I have nothing to show for it..."

"Nonsense. I'm sure Marius would agree that your presence is enough of a gift," she replied. "But I should leave the two of you alone. I am sure you have a lot of catching up to do."

She smiled and left, and Enjolras said, "Marius, there _is _something I need to tell you…" he paused for a moment before relating all that had happened since that morning on the barricade, including the truth about himself. When he was done, Marius looked at him closely for a moment before replying, "So we may have been right all along. You just may be a god; you can't rule that out now."

"Marius, quit. I am nothing more than human," he sank into an armchair, and Marius perched himself on the arm. They said nothing for a while until Marius put in, "You aren't really going to leave are you?"

"What is left for me here?"

"Plenty, dear friend of mine. Why, when you inherit your father's estate, you can use that money to help the poor…you will have influence, perhaps the power to create a Republic. Think of it!" Marius flung his arms up in the air, although this caused him to lose his balance and fall into the chair.

"Marius, get off!" Enjolras griped, although he was laughing.

"And you have me. You would not abandon me, would you?" Marius stared at his friend.

"No, I don't suppose I could…though you _are _insufferable at times." Marius smiled in response and shifted to a more comfortable position, unwilling to completely move off the chair. "François believes I have feelings for you."

"And you don't? That rather offends me."

"Not _those _kinds of feelings, Marius. And _especially _not now that you are married. He was quite determined to get me to admit it, though."

"How? It's not like you would take a threat from him," Marius smiled.

"No, he did not threaten me…not exactly. He…ah…kissed me," Enjolras looked down.

"He _what? _ There is something to keep in your memories: Your first kiss came as a threat from François de Courfeyrac." He paused for a moment before adding, "Where are the others? I would dearly like to see them."

"Probably at the café. We can go, if you want…if you are willing to leave your wife on your wedding night."

"We will have many years to spend together, and I have not seen the _Amis _for months," Marius countered.

"Well put. I have to warn you about André, though," Enjolras cautioned as Marius stood up. "He…is not the same."

Marius was silent for a moment before asking, "Have you ever considered that he may have a piece of the bayonet in him? My shoulder was not healing properly, and the doctors discovered that there was still a piece of shrapnel in it. That would account for the shooting pains."

"It is possible, I suppose, but…André is a surgeon. Would he not have thought of this?"

"Not if he believed the bayonets to be properly removed…"

"Marius, they were removed by a man who had been shot eight times and saw the world through a red haze of pain," Enjolras commented dryly.

"At any rate, I would suggest it to him. I could not think of any other problem," Marius shrugged.

"At this point, I am willing to try anything," Enjolras admitted. "Shall we?"


	6. Chapter 6

**So, thank you so much for the lovely reviews. Ugh…exams are coming up, but it's the end of high school for me, so there's more to look forward to than to loathe. But, regardless, I figured I'd post the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own. Sounding redundant already. **

**Chapter Six**

As they neared the café, a figure sitting on the outside porch stood up to meet them.

"Well, as I live and breathe, Marius Pontmercy!" Courfeyrac flew down the stairs to tackle Marius in a hug. "_Mon Dieu, _it has been a while. Have you missed me?"

"Of course," Marius laughed, returning the embrace. "Although I have to question your method of threatening. Really, kissing a man?"

"He told you, did he?" Courfeyrac had the grace to look ashamed before continuing, "Well, come in." He grabbed Marius by the arm and pulled him into the building.

As they entered, all conversation ceased as the other men turned to look. Feuilly stood up and crossed to them, saying: "Welcome back, Marius."

"Thank you very kindly, Feuilly. It's good to be back." After reuniting with the others, he turned to Combeferre, who nodded and very slowly stood up, grimacing somewhat as he straightened. Marius put a hand on his shoulder, smiling in what he hoped was a comforting way.

"Marius. I'm glad to see you well. Apollo would never admit it, but he was certainly worried about you," Combeferre greeted.

"Apollo needs to give up his act," Marius returned.

"Perhaps. It is almost an integral part of him, though, do you not think? I think to lose Apollo would diminish his holiness," Combeferre replied with a smiled.

"Are the two of you finished discussing my other half?" Enjolras walked over. "André, Marius has a theory on your injury."

"Really? What kind of theory?"

"I believe that a piece from the bayonet broke off and may still be inside you," Marius explained.

Combeferre blinked, apparently deep in thought. "It is…possible, I suppose, but I could hardly know for certain unless I could examine the bayonets."

"Julien kept them," Joly stood up. "He was still amazed that you were alive…he may still have them as the hospital."

"We shall have to check tomorrow, then. It will be…difficult to remove it even if that is the case…" Combeferre sighed and sat back down.

Courfeyrac came over and knelt down beside Combeferre. "You can find a way, though, can't you?"

"I…it might end up…I would have to find it and remove it…the blood loss…I suppose it's all whether I want to die sooner or later," Combeferre responded.

"You would perform the operation yourself?" Enjolras enquired.

"Of course. I would not trust it to anyone else if I wished to have a chance."

"Be careful if you do, André. You know how I feel about all of this," Courfeyrac put in.

"He'll be fine, Courfeyrac. He's a medical genius," Bossuet grinned.

"It hardly matters how smart I am, Bossuet. Joly, tell him…" Combeferre leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, Bossuet, how would you like to cut yourself open and dig around inside yourself?" Joly asked.

"Erm…" Lesgles gulped. "No, I suppose not."

"Although…I would not lament the loss of these pains…" Combeferre grimaced and clenched his fists.

Marius looked at him with growing fear, but Combeferre waved his hand and said, "Don't look so concerned, Marius. I've lived with this for six months now. I'm more or less used to it." Marius nodded, although anyone watching could tell he was unconvinced.

000

"I feel so bad for him," Marius sighed later, dropping onto Enjolras' couch.

"We all do. Sometimes I think it might be better for him to just give up…so he would not have to live with the pain…I cannot believe I just said that!" Enjolras was pacing furiously.

"Enjolras, come here. You're making me nervous."

The other man sat down on the couch, although he kept tapping his foot rapidly.

"You shouldn't feel guilty for thinking that. We all want the pain to go away. I really…do not want to see him die trying to remove that bayonet," Marius spoke up.

"If anybody can do it, thought, it's him."

"Of course." Marius rested his hand on Enjolras' leg. "How is Courfeyrac taking all of this?"

"It's hard on him, to be sure. Of course it is. He's…changed, somehow. Not nearly so promiscuous, and his humor has seemed strained of late. His face when he saw you was the happiest I have seem him in a good long while. André told us he did not expect to live for more than six months…and that was four months ago," Enjolras explained.

"A lot of things are different, now. This experience has made all of us realize how mortal we are…how easily our lives could end. I almost lost you all…"

"But you didn't. And that is what counts. But you…you are a different man now, Marius. You are a married man, and your life will change." He paused and then smiled thoughtfully. "I'm happy for you, you know."

"I do. But I can assure you, I have not changed all that much. I'm still merely shy and innocent," Marius blushed.

"Marius, you were never innocent."

Marius shook his head with a smile. "Ah, how I've missed all of you. Have I convinced you not to leave?"

"Yes. You are right; to run away would be to admit defeat. I may not revolt by fighting again, but I can use my family's money to make a difference."

"Good. I need you around," Marius smiled.

"And I need you, _mon frére_. I need all of you. I just cannot believe how long it took me to realize that," Enjolras sighed. "It's late. We should get some sleep."

"Remember the second time I stayed over?"

"You mean the time you fell asleep on me?"

"The time I cured you of your fear of being touched," Marius corrected.

"Yes, well, we shan't be doing that again. I can't have you lying on my chest; it creates too much pressure," Enjolras informed the other man.

"I could see that. I still cannot believe you survived, you realize. You must have been in terrible pain."

"I hardly felt it. I was too concerned about everyone else." He stood up. "Sleep wherever you want, but André tells me I need to be in a real bed. You probably should be, as well, if your injuries were as bad as I hear. Gunshot wounds, stabs, a broken collarbone, head trauma…"

"Stop. I'm sure they were exaggerating. I can sleep on the couch," Marius said stubbornly. Enjolras nodded with a smile and the two went to bed.

000

Enjolras woke up as the February sunlight shone through his window, wincing a little at the now all-too-familiar stiffness in his chest. Marius was lying close to him, his arms around the other man's waist and his head pillowed on Enjolras' shoulder. Enjolras smiled at this, he knew that Marius would not have stayed long on the couch.

There was a light knock on the door and Enjolras said, "Come in."

"Aww, look at the lovers." Courfeyrac was grinning broadly. "Come on, Pontmercy, you're married. Get up," he teased.

Marius yawned in response. "Shove off, Courfeyrac. It's none of your business," he muttered.

"He's right, Marius. You _are _married," Enjolras agreed.

"Mmm…" Marius replied sleepily. "Cosette's not here. And besides…she's only sixteen. Far too young to be anything _more _than married, wouldn't you think?"

"You tell us. _You _married _her," _Courfeyrac sighed. "I have a bad feeling about today."

"Stop worrying about him, François," Enjolras sat up. "It's beyond our control, now."

"I know. Joly's the most nervous, I think. If Combeferre can't do it himself, he shall have to take over," Courfeyrac explained.

"Not a position I would envy. I suppose Joly feels that if anything…untoward were to happen, it would be his fault," Marius hypothesized.

"More than likely. I really just hope you're right, Marius…that it is as simple as a piece of bayonet and that when it's fixed…_if _it's fixed," he amended, "he will be fine again." Nobody responded to this, and a moment later Feuilly and Prouvaire came in.

"Morning, gentlemen," Feuilly said quietly. "We should probably leave soon if we wish to get to the hospital in time."

Courfeyrac nodded, saying, "Indeed. But seeing as how these fine gentlemen have just woken up, we should probably let them get dressed."

" 'Just woken up?'" Prouvaire smiled. "But it is 11:30. What could possibly possess you to sleep that long?"

"Not _that,_ Jehan. I'm married," Marius glared at the poet.

"Oh, just admit it, Marius, or I shall have to kiss you, as well," Courfeyrac grinned evilly.

"Please refrain, Courfeyrac. My wife would be forced to kill you, and I prefer you alive," Marius shot back.

"Feuilly, Jehan, let's move outside and wait for them there, shall we?" Courfeyrac pushed the others out the door, turned around with a wink, and closed the door behind him.

"He's impossible," Marius flopped back on the bed.

"Undoubtedly," Enjolras shook his head and walked to the wardrobe, rifling through it for a clean shirt.

"Do you…want to talk about it?"

"What is there to say? You're married, and that's how the story ends."

"I just want the truth, Apollo. You keep saying you love me…but in a different way. What if there was no Cosette? What if I never found anybody? Then would…"

"Yes." Enjolras chopped the word short, his eyes blazing. "But because I respect you and I respect her, we will not speak of it again. My comrades may approve, but it is blasphemy in the eyes of the Lord. Therefore, this conversation is over." He headed for the door, but Marius quickly stood up and moved to intercept him. "Marius, get out of my way."

"I would have, too."

"What?"

"If Cosette…" he reached out and grabbed the other man's arms. "I had to know, that's all."

"This was why I did not want to see you again. Nothing can ever come of this. Your heart and soul belong to another, and she is an angel."

"You are my angel, Apollo. And you own my soul," Marius stated seriously.

"Marius, stop. You're talking nonsense," Enjolras snapped, moving away. "And we shall never speak of it again. Understood?" He headed for the door.

"Apollo, please…"

"_Understood?"_

Marius paused for a moment, a little taken aback, before quietly asking, "Do you want me to leave?"

"Part of me wishes I never had to see you again, because it would be easier for me. However, the other knows it would be even harder to let you go. But if we just forget this…" he turned back around, walking out the door. Courfeyrac took one look at him and announced, "Gentlemen, Apollo has his shield up. Anyone who gets within three feet of his holy presence will turn to stone." Marius shook his head sadly and followed Enjolras down the street.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, for those of you who don't know…It's the 175****th**** anniversary of "Barricade Day" today. That is, June 6, 1832 was the day the barricade fell and…ah…you should know what else happened. But not in this story! Long live the ABC! Anyway, I'm wearing my **_**Les Miz **_**shirt in honor of it, and I though I'd post a new chapter as well. Enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: What haven't I said yet…oh well, still don't own it. **

**Chapter Seven**

They reached the hospital by noon and found Joly sitting on the stairs, practically vibrating.

"Something's going to go wrong, and I'll have to fix it, and I'm going to mess up, and he's going to die…_Mon Dieu_…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"Joly, calm down." Bossuet looked worn-out.

" _'Calm down?' _How would you like to be in my place, Eagle? I'm not even a surgeon! I…"

"But he trusts you nonetheless. Don't be so hard on yourself," Lesgles glanced up and noticed the others, nodding to them. "Morning, gents."

"Good morning," Marius replied. "How soon will the…operation begin?"

"Whenever he chooses," Julien came out of the hospital. "You must be the man who suggested re-examining the bayonet. I'm Julien Béssard."

"Marius Pontmercy." Marius shook the other's hand. "Were my thoughts correct?"

"Indeed they were. I do not see how I could have missed it…"

"You had a severely injured man acting without reason to deal with. It would have been easily overlooked," Enjolras shrugged.

"Perhaps. I also do not see how he is still alive with that piece of metal inside of him."

"I think André could have given up a long time ago, but he kept going because there were people who did not want to live without him," Jehan announced quietly.

"Anything is plausible. Do you want to see him before…" Julien paused.

"I think we should," Enjolras agreed, and Julien led them through the hospital to a back room. Combeferre looked up from studying the bayonet when they entered.

"I wish you all would not treat this as some sort of funeral," he griped good-naturedly. "If I wanted to die, I would be trusting this to somebody else." He held the bayonet up so they could clearly see that the tip was broken off. "Of course, the real problem will be finding it. I know where the pains are the worst, so I shall have to start there, and hopefully it will go quickly."

"Joly seems rather mortified that he shall have to intervene," Feuilly put in.

"He needn't be so worried. I rather doubt I shall have to call him. That is, if the worst happens, I would not want him to feel responsible," Combeferre amended. "But I really should get started. Wish me luck," he smiled.

"Of course. We're all behind you, André." Enjolras grasped the other man's hand.

"I know, my brother. François…" he turned to Courfeyrac.

"There's nothing to say, is there?" Courfeyrac shrugged. "I shall see you later."

"Right," Combeferre nodded.

000

They were all back outside the hospital, each man absorbed in his own thoughts; each unwilling to be the one to break the silence. Finally, Enjolras motioned to Marius and walked into the garden, seating himself on the fountain where Valjean had found him four months earlier. The weather was unseasonably mild for February, and the sun was bright and warm.

"You wanted to talk?" Marius asked cautiously, unsure if the other man had calmed down.

"Yes. You would not happen to know what has become of Éponine, would you?"

Marius was silent for a moment before responding, "I do. She was at the barricade…she saved my life…but I…she died in my arms. I'm sorry."

"Her and her brother both," Enjolras sighed. "They were…invaluable."

"I always felt I owed them something…her father saved mine at Waterloo…but I realized he was no more than a petty thief. I guess I always felt sorry for his children. They deserved to be more than what they were: _Les Misérables." _

"Mmm. She had a good heart. I think all she really needed was a friend," Enjolras agreed.

"Much like you." Marius stopped, knowing where this conversation would likely lead.

"Marius, I'm sorry about earlier. But you have to understand my morals in this."

"I do. And you are right. I would never want to be disloyal to Cosette." He sat down. "I'm such a fool/"

"Hardly. I know I'm irresistible," Enjolras replied, and despite himself, Marius laughed. "Marius, you're wonderful and beautiful and I love you as much as I could love anyone…but from a distance. Always from a distance. I can see how much Cosette means to you; your eyes light up when you speak of her. One day, you will have children and make lives for yourselves. Your old friends will not have nearly the claim on you that they once did, and you shall begin to drift apart," he finished sadly.

"But not yet, Enjolras. Not for a while. I am in no way ready to be a father. The very prospect is frightening beyond all reason."

"Your mind will change, Marius; this much is certain."

"Are you trying to get rid of me again?" Marius asked suspiciously.

"I tried that already; it does not work. No, I would never want to be rid of you," Enjolras assured the younger man.

"I'm relieved," Marius god off the ground and joined Enjolras on the fountain. He put his arm around the other man and commented, "We've all changed, haven't we?"

"Change is inevitable, if not always good."

"It's not always bad, either," Marius smiled as Feuilly and Prouvaire wandered into the garden, making their way over.

"Marius, let go, or I shall push you into the fountain," Enjolras griped.

"You wouldn't, for then I would contract hypothermia and die, and we both know you could not live without me," Marius countered.

"You sound like Joly," Enjolras sighed and asked the others, "Any word?"

"Not yet," Prouvaire shrugged. "But, in all likelihood, that is a good thing. For if a problem _had _arisen, Julien would have informed us, I'm sure."

"Has Joly died of a panic attack yet?" Marius grinned.

"No, but he probably will if we don't hear anything soon," Feuilly replied. "He's claimed about twenty different ailments in the last five minutes."

"Typical. Enjolras is being stubborn today, gentlemen," Marius shook his head and stood up. "His…opinion of me seems to have changed since my marriage."

"Apollo, you should know that nothing should stand in the way of love," Jehan sighed.

"Jehan, please. Do not make this harder than it needs to be," Enjolras glared at the poet. He stood up and crossed to Marius, who had seated himself on the ground and was idly twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. "Marius Pontmercy, what do you want from me?"

Marius reached up to take his hand and pulled him down. "I just want what we used to have. There was nothing wrong with it, and yet you're pulling away. I thought you were over this." He paused as Enjolras glanced away.

"I thought I was too. But maybe I was wrong. After all, I have been wrong about an awful lot in my life."

Marius lay back on the grass. "There you go again, being too hard on yourself. The émeute was not a mistake, because we all agreed to it. Lamarque's death was the fuel needed to blow up the powder keg, and it is hardly our fault that not all the sparks caught."

"That's very poetic, Marius," Jehan commented.

"Hmm. I suppose it was, wasn't it? Ah well, but then I am a dreamer, aren't I?" Marius smiled.

"Head always in the clouds. I suppose you and Jehan have some common features," Feuilly observed. "And he is right, Enjolras. None of this was your fault."

"I know I have claimed that I did not influence anyone else, but I do not think I believe it myself," Enjolras admitted. "Especially you, Marius. I tried to convince you to change your ideology and fight, and you did…for me. That is why I feel so horrible about this. I'm afraid of you getting hurt."

Marius smiled sadly as he glanced at the other man. "No, Enjolras, you did not change my mind. Nobody can do that apart from myself. We all followed you by our own choice."

"Yes, but _why?_"

"Because we trust you," Feuilly replied.

"Because we love you," Jehan added quietly.

Enjolras made no answer to this comment, but it had obviously impacted him in some way. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"Now do you believe us?" Marius asked.

"Perhaps. I do not know, I suppose. But I need to force myself to stop dwelling on the past. Things will never be the same, and I have to accept that." He looked up as Joly raced into the garden,

"Gentlemen," he gasped. "I…curse this asthma…I am pleased to announce that the operation was a success."

"Wonderful!" Jehan was beaming. "Can we see him?"

"If you wish; briefly, but he needs to rest. Just give us a few minutes to clean up the blood."

He ran off again, and Marius stood up, only to find himself on the ground again as Courfeyrac dashed madly into the garden and ran headlong into him. "Calm down!" Marius laughed.

"This is the happiest I've been in months!" Courfeyrac exclaimed. "Why, I feel…" he paused. " I _did _threaten to kiss you, correct?" Marius drew back a little apprehensively, but Courfeyrac just shrugged and kissed him regardless.

"Courfeyrac!" Marius sputtered, trying to move away but finding it difficult with the other man on top of him.

"I know; I have no morals," the other grinned impishly, standing up and dashing back off to the hospital. Marius blinked in stunned confusion until Enjolras offered him a hand to help him get up.

000

"Hard to believe such a small thing could cause so much trouble, isn't it?" Combeferre held up the bayonet piece.

"How do you feel, André?" Enjolras asked.

"Tired, but relieved. It could have turned out a lot worse than it did, believe me. I think I should be back to normal now," he smiled. "You all with have to put up with me for a while longer, I fear."

Marius was still looking rather shocked, so Courfeyrac said, "Marius, can you ever forgive me? I act without thinking, occasionally."

" 'Occasionally?'" Bossuet grinned, earning a glare from Courfeyrac.

"François, did you kiss him?" Combeferre asked somewhat tonelessly.

"Perhaps…" Courfeyrac attempted to look innocent, but failed rather miserably. "Oh, you all know I meant nothing by it," he sulked, causing the others to laugh.

Enjolras looked around the room with a slight smile, thinking that maybe, finally, they could all move on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Well, I don't own it…yet…**

**Chapter Eight**

It was May of the same year, and Enjolras had not seen Marius since that day at the hospital. They had all agreed that his wife took precedence, and so Enjolras was rather surprised to see the other man on his doorstep one morning.

"Marius! Come in." The other entered, and Enjolras shut the door. "What brings you here?"

"Plenty, my friend. Cosette's father died, for one thing. Before he did, he told me some things I cannot repeat, but he also told me that…"

"He's not really Cosette's father," Enjolras finished. "He mentioned that to me when he found me outside the hospital."

Marius nodded and continued, "Right. But he also told Cosette about her mother and where she came from. Cosette only vaguely remembers her childhood in a town called Montfermeil, and her father told her that he met her mother in a place called Montreuil-sur-Mer.

"She was rather excited to see these places for herself, but she preferred to go alone. My grandfather sent her with a coach driver he trusts, so I have no qualms about her being by herself, but she will be gone for a few days, so…"

"You came here," Enjolras finished. "Well, you know you are welcome anytime."

"I had hoped. How is everyone?" Marius asked.

"Well enough. André seems a lot better, which I am very grateful for," Enjolras replied.

Something in the other man's tone gave Marius pause, and he asked, "Is…something wrong?"

"No, no. I suppose I had considered myself above all of this, but seeing you always brings back unwanted feelings." He sat on the bed.

Marius said nothing; there was nothing to say, and so he merely sat down as well.

"Now I'm being selfish again."

"Of course you're not." Marius took the other's hand. "I…it's all much too confusing for me."

Enjolras pulled his hand out of Marius' grasp and said, "I was supposed to meet the others at the café. Would you like to come along?"

Marius nodded, but he felt a strange emptiness inside…an emptiness that had always been filled by his brotherhood with Enjolras, but now it felt like they were back to the beginning. Enjolras had not been the same since…it was not even his marriage that caused it, Marius realized, but rather it seemed that the failed émeute had impacted Enjolras more than anyone could have thought. Because he felt responsible…for Bahorel and Grantaire dying, for the others being injured, and he would not let his guilt go…no matter how unfounded it was.

"You have to stop blaming yourself."

"For what?"

"What happened at the barricade. You controlled none of it. I thought you were going to stop dwelling on the past…"

"I say a lot of things I do not believe. We've been through all of this before, and you shall hardly convince me now," Enjolras said brusquely. "Hurry, or we shall be late."

Marius followed him out with a sigh and they set off. Enjolras turned down an alley, probably to save time, although Marius felt somewhat uneasy taking the back ways. His fears proved well founded when three men who suddenly appeared ahead blocked the exit to the alley. He glanced over his shoulder, unsurprised to see the opening they had come through blocked as well, and he felt a cold sense of dread wash over him.

"Stay calm." Enjolras muttered. "And keep going." Marius trusted the other man and, when it became clear they would not stop, the three men came into the alley. Marius could see the glint of a knife, but as the man held up his hand to halt them, Enjolras broke into a run. The man raised his knife, but the next thing Marius knew, the man dropped to the ground, a small dagger jutting out of his throat. The other two halted, but Marius had momentarily forgotten the men behind him. That is, until he found his arms pinned and a knife help up to his throat.

Enjolras, however, had suspected something of this nature, and he trusted his speed. With almost inhuman agility, he quickly dropped the other two men with well-aimed punches and retrieved his dagger, spinning around and dropping into a defensive crouch. "Let him go." His voice was steel.

"Oh, I think we have the advantage though," one of the men growled, painfully wrenching Marius' arm. "We were only going to rob you lads, but now that you've been so uncooperative…we may just have to kill you."

"Try it." Enjolras glared at the men. "But have your fight with me. I was the one who drew the first blood." He walked forward a few paces, and the man holding Marius pressed the knife closer to his throat. Enjolras looked into Marius' eyes, silently asking for trust. Marius could hardly form a response, but he found he didn't need to, for an instant later the dagger flew within inches of his head as it found its mark. The man holding Marius staggered back, and Marius quickly turned and, summoning all the strength he could muster, punched the other man in the face. The man dropped to the ground and he turned to face the remaining bandit, who took off down the alley.

Enjolras quickly walked over, eyes full of concern. "Marius…"

"I'm alright." Marius resisted the urge to throw himself on Enjolras, knowing that the other needed to make the first move in order for them to regain the bond they had lost. "You…always carry a knife?" he laughed shakily.

"Can never be too careful," Enjolras shrugged. "I…when he…you…" he paused. "Well, we shall really be late now." He bent down to pick up his dagger, but still made no move to leave. Marius reached a hand up to his throat to check for blood, heaving a sigh of relief when there was none to be found. He realized that his hand was shaking, and a few seconds later the shock of the battle truly caught up to him and he dropped heavily to the ground, realizing in that instant how close to death he had actually come.

Enjolras knelt in front of him. "It's okay; we're alive. But then, I could not let you die. What would Cosette say?"

"I know you were not thinking of my wife, Enjolras. You can stop lying to me," Marius replied bitterly as he willed his body to calm down.

"Marius, must you always be so difficult?" Enjolras reached out to grip Marius' shoulder, seeming hardly aware of what he was doing. "Of course I was thinking of your wife; how would she feel if you…if you were…" he pulled back for a moment before grabbing the other man in a hug and pulling him close.

Marius closed his eyes and leaned into the other's touch, realizing how much he had missed it. It had almost cost him his life, but Enjolras was back. And that made everything worth it. "Apollo…" he started softly, "Now do you understand?"

"I'll never understand. But I've learned to deal with that," he smiled. "And I'm sorry if I scared you…"

"You had no choice. I'm just thankful you had better aim than the National Guard."

Enjolras snorted. "They could have shot me twenty times and done no damage." He reached up to gently stoke Marius' hair. "I would have lived through anything for you, and I was no more than a fool not to realize it sooner."

Marius shook his head. "No, you have never been a fool. Misguided, perhaps, but…"

"Marius!"

"What happens when someone discovers the bodies?" Marius asked fearfully.

"Nothing. The police will be grateful, if anything. But we should move away, before the others wake up…" Even with this statement, he held Marius close for a few moments more before hastily standing up. Marius got to his feet as well, and the two made their way to a park a few blocks distant, both knowing that they needed to come to terms with some things before rushing off to the meeting. Moving into a well-shaded, unoccupied corner of the garden, the two sat down on a stone bench. Marius was still amazed that neither of them was injured, and he leaned back against the bench, the shock of the fight beginning to recede.

"Why didn't you come back?"

Marius blinked slowly, pausing for a moment before forming an answer. "Why? Because I thought we had agreed that Cosette took precedence. And I wanted her to know I cared for her, so I spent as much time as I could with her. She believes that you are more important to me than she is, I think, and I wanted to show her that that wasn't true.

"However, I now realize that spending all of our time together is hardly good for us, either. We were starting to argue a lot." Glancing around to make sure nobody had come into view, he shifted closer to Enjolras and leaned against him.

"Well, as long as you don't abandon either of us, everything should work out."

"You make it sound as if I have some obligation to spend time with you," Marius commented.

"You should. You've been ignoring me for long enough."

Marius glared and playfully punched the other man in the shoulder, saying, "_I _should! You were the one who did not visit for four months even though you knew I was alive!"

"I had my reasons."

"You always do." Marius fell silent. "Sometimes, I wonder why I feel the way I do about you, Apollo. I don't mean to offend you, but you are a little…"

"Inhuman at times. I know. But you saw something inside of me that even André could not. You were young, and untrained in the ways of the world; your mind was more open and accepting of anyone. I suppose that is also why I felt such a kinship with you from the beginning. You were not intimidated by me. And, even knowing all you do…you're still not."

"I've told you before: you've given me no reason to fear you. You have always been…unnaturally kind to me, I suppose."

"Well, thank you for that compliment, Marius." Enjolras closed his eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over him and playfully ruffle his hair. "I can't believe it's almost been a year."

"I know. It barely seems that any time at all has passed. I suppose it has taken us this long to simply get our lives back to normal," Marius agreed. Then he added, somewhat regretfully, "Well…I suppose it is time we got to the café."

"Indeed. Although I can just hear Courfeyrac when I walk in…late…with you," Enjolras half-smiled.

"Oh, but you must expect that by now. And so long as Cosette never heard about us being…romantically involved, I do not care." Marius winked. And though they both knew it was time to go, they were once again reluctant to move. "Enjolras?"

"Yes?"

"When's the last time we sat like this?"

"Oh, Marius, don't ask me that. Before you were married. At least, the last time I had no guilt," Enjolras began to remove his arm from the other man's shoulders, but Marius stopped him.

"Meaning you still have guilt?"

"Meaning I will always have guilt. We've been through this enough: I will never be loved fully and completely by anyone. That is the way my life was destined to go, and that is how it shall be. I have accepted that; why can't anybody else?" Enjolras replied bitterly.

"Because it's not right," Marius said softly. "And you repeating it incessantly hardly makes it more right. I _am _sorry that my devotion for Cosette does not allow me to be more to you than what I am. But I want you to know that…and there's no way to put this into words, so I should stop talking now and just…do…this…" he pulled Enjolras closer to him and kissed him, silently asking for forgiveness and at the same time knowing that it was the right thing to do.

Enjolras felt as if his body had turned to stone. He could not move…even had he wanted to, he highly doubted that he would have been able to. This was what he had been craving from the other man for so long, and everything…his guilt from the barricade, his denial of his true feelings…even his guilt at betraying a woman he hardly knew…he realized with a jolt that it was all a result of his continual fear that his feelings toward the young man were unrequited. Marius was a pacifist; he would always try to make anyone feel better, and Enjolras had feared that he had put up with his affections only because he was too kind to say otherwise.

But this…this proved something that could not have been shown any other way. And with this, he was finally able to accept with his soul what he had known all along: that it was not his fault, that he had friends, and that there were people who, despite who he was, loved him. And that changed everything. Maybe there really was a chance for him to start again…to start anew, without worrying about the choices he had made. Everything happened for a reason, after all; maybe his destiny was not quite so bleak as he had made it out to be.

He clutched a hand in the fabric of Marius' coat, not caring if anybody was walking by to see them. Marius responded by deepening the kiss, tangling a hand in Enjolras' golden hair and trying desperately to resist the urge to rid the other of his annoying outer-garments. This was…unlike anything he had experienced with Cosette. Cosette was innocent, and everything about her was that way as well. He doubted she had even considered the thought of going farther than a chaste kiss now and then, or of doing more than merely holding hands. But then, her age made it understandable. Marius was a good four years older than she; and was willing to do more than, maybe, she ever would be. And it was for these reasons; and, perhaps, the fact that he truly _did _love Enjolras; that he did not feel this to be a betrayal of his wife.

Enjolras moaned softly against his mouth and then slowly pulled away, his blue eyes wide. "Wait…stop…" he managed to gasp out before grabbing the younger man tightly and pulling him close. "_Dieu, _Marius, where did you learn that?"

"I…didn't. Cosette would never…" he gulped. "I suppose I should apologize, now…"

"Please don't. You just made me realize that I've wasted a year of my life worrying about circumstances that were beyond my control. If that was what it took to bring me back to my senses, I am most grateful. And even if nothing had come of it…it was still very enjoyable…" Enjolras smiled. "Thank you, my friend. My brother."

"Of course. I'm glad it helped. But…ah…we _really _ought to be going." He slowly disentangled himself from the other and stood up.

"You're right, of course. Oh…and I think you may just have to warn your innocent wife about what the others say when we're together, because I do not think François can resist bringing it up when he sees us."

Marius nodded with a smile and the two headed for the café.

000

They entered the building and were greeted by the usual friendly banter of the other men.

"And I swear, this morning my foot was numb and then it moved up into my leg and…"

"Jolllly, when it reaches your head and goes away, then will you stop complaining?" Bossuet groaned good-naturedly.

"And I have thought of the _perfect _way to get you two together," Courfeyrac was saying to Prouvaire and Feuilly.

"Courfeyrac, need I remind you that you've been saying that for _three years_?" Feuilly groaned. "Try as you might, you will not win in this."

Combeferre noticed them and came over. "You're late. What happened?"

"Nothing of import. But there is at least one less bandit in the city than their was this morning," Enjolras said non-committally.

"Apollo, you need to stop taking the back ways…"

"I was running late. And nothing bad happened," Enjolras shrugged. "Besides, you know I would protect Marius with my life."

"I know. How are you, Marius?"

"I'm doing well. And you seem to be feeling a lot better yourself," Marius noticed, smiling.

"Much. Thanks to you," Combeferre smiled, gripping Marius' shoulder. Marius reached up and placed his hand on top of Combeferre's.

"Well, _I _think…Look who just walked in. Late. What have you two been up to?" Courfeyrac asked slyly.

"Some things never changed," Enjolras sighed.

Marius agreed with a small chuckle, thinking how grateful he was for that. He may have freely given his heart to Cosette, but these men would always own his soul. And the soul never dies.

FIN

**And so it ends. Thx to all those who've stuck with it from the beginning and even from the beginning of "Ghosts of the Past." You're all amazing and deserve an award for putting up with me. Or a cookie. I've got lots of…wait, I'm out. Sorry. **

**Some notes on the story. The kiss WASN'T supposed to be there. In fact, it wasn't in my original version, but when I was typing, I was like…"Okay, they've GOT to kiss now." And I think it helps explain why Enjy's at peace with himself again….**

**Oh, who am I kidding? That boy's never at peace with himself! **

**But, whatever, I don't know when I'll post another Les Miz story. I've got one in the works, but it's kind of on hiatus now b/c I'm finishing my "Ocarina of Time" story. Which will be long…I think. Don't really know until I start to type it out. **

**But finals start…urp…tomorrow and then for the next two weeks. I'll be at home more, but there's no guarantee I'll be writing. **

**And then there's Grad…**

**But, once again, thank you to all my readers and reviews. **

_**Adieu! **_


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